


The Giant

by melliejellie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Grad School AU, Linguistics student!Yaku, M/M, Pining, Thirsty Yaku, Very minor Bokuroo in the background, Yakulev main focus, it's a theme here, you get a basic lesson in linguistic relativity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melliejellie/pseuds/melliejellie
Summary: In between the classes he's teaching and the classes he's taking as a graduate student, Yaku finds plenty of time to watch the hottie in the apartment across from his. The Giant is slender, fit, silver-haired, and - thankfully - always leaves his windows wide open. He's absolutely fantastic to admire from afar until one day there's no windows and walls between them at all.





	1. The Giant is Gorgeous.

**Author's Note:**

> I had no idea how to rate this. T because it's pretty clean but M because Yaku is thirsty and Kuroo makes jokes. Also there's a little swearing. Let's call it T+. Cool? Cool.

The Giant is getting home later than usual today. Yaku stands at his fourth floor window watering his plants even though the cup he brought over for the task is already empty. There might be more water in there, he reasons. The plants are still thirsty. 

Yaku watches The Giant saunter into his living room. His third floor windows are wide open. They tend to be, thankfully. Yaku gets his daily dose of him stripping off his shirt and pants. When he’s walking around in his briefs, Yaku can see everything. Everything. 

The Giant is very fit. He has silver hair, which might be odd if Yaku wasn’t so sure he was some kind of demigod based on his physique. He’s strong, but lean. Yaku thinks he must be some sort of athlete. Also, his underwear are always bright colors, like red or orange, so they just naturally draw the eye. That’s all that’s happening. Yaku’s not looking on purpose, they’re just naturally grabbing his attention.

The Giant sprawls out on his couch, but today his head is on the other side, so Yaku only gets a view of his long legs. God, they go on for days. He looks a little longer, still watering the plants, of course. Nothing more. He definitely doesn’t think about running his fingers up those calves and thighs, savoring the feel of the powerful muscle underneath. 

Yaku coughs to snap himself out of the accidentally enjoyable reverie. There is laundry to do and he needs to get started on lesson plans for next term, not to mention the fact that his research advisor expects an update on his thesis, even though they’re on break between semesters and he deserves a break, thank you very much. He sighs and turns to complete what chores he can before Kuroo shows up with dinner. 

Yaku walks the very short distance to his bedroom to gather the dirty clothes in his hamper. He says bedroom, but there isn’t even a real door separating it from the rest of his small living space. There’s a frame where a door could be, but instead it’s just like a hint of a hallway, a mere whisper of what could be if only he wasn’t living on a graduate assistant’s salary. 

But with the small, older place comes some perks. The landlord doesn’t care what the tenants do to the walls, so Yaku’s installed shelves for rows of linguistics textbooks and his favorite fiction books. The spines all show signs of wear on the edges from being comfort reads for so many years now. The rest of the walls are dotted with posters of art prints, never the real thing, and photos of friends and family members. 

He is, however, the most proud of his accent wall. Oh yes, the bold, red accent wall. Such a brave addition to his home. After a particularly horrible week at the university, he’d convinced himself that he had to do something, anything to make coming home better than just collapsing on his couch and falling asleep. 

So, in a fit of “I can’t fix my life, but I can control this one thing” fury, he’d meticulously painted one wall in his living room bright red and then built a ton of shelves. The shelves are great. Functional. The red wall is even better. Alive. Sometimes, when he’s behind in his thesis chapters, behind on grading, broke and eating buttered noodles, he looks at that wall and thinks, “I did a thing.” 

His apartment is small, it’s old, but Yaku likes it. It’s all his and he’s earned every tiny square foot of it through his hard work.

The Giant’s apartment is much larger. Yaku knows because when The Giant disappears from his living room, sometimes Yaku will see him a few windows down in what he can only assume is a bedroom. The fact that there is space between the rooms alone proves that it’s larger. 

Yaku tries not to think about what The Giant might look like with his arms and legs spread out on his bed. Not now. Kuroo’s coming soon. 

Not that he should save that thought for later. That’s probably not the right thing to do.

Yaku starts to sweat as he pours laundry detergent into the machine.

By the time he hears a knock at his door, he’s caught up on chores and has sent yet another email to his research advisor apologizing for the lack of updates. He gets up from the couch and welcomes the delightfully obnoxious human tornado that is Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Burritos!” Kuroo yells in triumph as the bag of food he’s slings hits Yaku’s table with a heavy _thunk._

“Good to see you, too.” Yaku rolls his eyes and grabs two paper plates from the counter in his kitchen. 

Kuroo sits down in his normal spot at the table, reaching in the bag to pull out all of the carefully chosen salsas first. “Always, man. So they had a new corn salsa today, got that, a bunch of the spicy red ones, and I got the same disgusting salsa verde you like so much.” 

“It’s good. It’s mild, not overpowering.” Yaku sits across from his friend, stifling a frustrated groan when the uneven table legs make it rock to the left slightly. He knocks his foot into the cardboard bit he keeps under the leg to shove it back into place. 

“It’s boring. It tastes like green.”

“At least it doesn’t fight me on the way out.”

Kuroo cackles. “Did you just make a potty joke, Yakkun? I’m so impressed.”

Yaku grins. “Just tired. It brings me down to your level.”

“Good to have you down here.”

These Wednesday night dinners became routine when Kuroo was mid-crisis and contemplating dropping out of his grad program. Yaku invited him over, looking to help out by making a meal for someone he was friendly with, but not exactly friends with, for one evening only. That one dinner turned into several weeks worth and then, out of nowhere, Yaku realized he’d gained a friendship he wouldn't trade for anything.

They catch up on each other’s weeks so far and dig into their meal. Yaku keeps his sauces off to the side while Kuroo mangles his burrito, opening it unceremoniously to dump in so much salsa it’s drowning, then wrapping it back up in the foil. 

“Any good bar stories this week?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Same old, same old. I mean, it’s like any job. I small talk, I laugh, I complain about bosses with coworkers. I just do it at night, can be as loud as I want, sometimes clean up barf, and I get more tips when I flirt instead of getting an HR complaint.”

“Still happy you quit your program?”

“Every damn day.” He smirks and for a moment Yaku feels the familiar pang of jealousy. Kuroo seems so much freer now. Logically Yaku knows Kuroo’s prone to the same bouts of spiraling and “what the fuck am I doing with my life” sobbing showers, but someone else’s problems often look so much nicer than your own. And Kuroo’s got money now. That’s objectively better than his own situation.

“How are classes?” Kuroo asks, sour cream perched precariously on the edge of his lip. 

“The ones I’m teaching or the ones I’m suffering through as a student?”

“Both.”

“Answer’s the same - both done as of yesterday. Glad I don’t have to grade their final exams.”

“But I bet you’re still knee-deep in some linguistics text that you’re reading _for fun._ ”

“Well, obviously. I like my discipline. I just don’t like when other people tell me what to read.”

The conversation stalls and Yaku knows his friend is leaving the door wide open for him to babble on excitedly about whatever absurdly niche topic he’s currently studying. This is how he knows they’re really friends. Kuroo doesn’t just let him go on and on. No, Kuroo’s weirdly interested in hearing about it. Whether Yaku wants to spit out all of his current noticings about regional dialects across the Kanto region or dive into his thoughts on linguistic relativity across cultures, Kuroo’s always got a listening ear and some solid questions to ask. 

He might look and sound like a real dude, but Kuroo’s got a lot below the surface. 

“--and while I know that the strongest forms of linguistic relativity have been more or less proven false, because there’s no way language determines everything about our cognitive processes, the weaker forms have some empirical support, especially recently. I mean, language has to shape some of the ways we think, you know?”

“So like, what would speaking Japanese mean for us?”

Yaku can’t even help the way he gets excited and speaks more quickly. “There’s, like, so much I could say, so many different theories, but the short version is that cultures with more of a focus on in-group sustainability, like Japanese, have a language that supports that idea. But it’s, like, a chicken and egg situation. Did the language evolve because of that desire to put the group over the self or did the formation of the language shape that group mentality?”

Kuroo nods along the whole time, but smirks when Yaku’s done. “Which would I be supporting then, group or self, if I informed you that you have cilantro stuck between your teeth?”

“Debatable.” Yaku laughs, putting down his burrito to pick it out.

“A little more to the left,” Kuroo guides. “Got it. I’d say self because I didn’t want to look at it.”

“Ah, but you were protecting me from mortal embarrassment if I left the house with green between my teeth. Group-reinforcing norms.”

“Like if you walked outside your building and ran into the third floor hottie.”

Yaku scrunches up his face and groans. “I regret ever telling you about that.”

“There was nothing to tell. I came out of the bathroom and saw you open-mouthed gawking at the specimen across the alley.”

Yaku’s cheeks still warm at the memory. How had he not been able to control himself better? Sure, The Giant was doing crunches in these little shorts and nothing else, but Kuroo was over. He should have known better. 

“Why don’t you just go talk to him?”

“Sure, just count out which door is his then casually stroll over, knock on his door, and inform him that I’ve been staring at him for three weeks.”

“Yea! Tell him you’re doing a survey. Ask him, ‘on a scale from one to ten, how into dudes are you? And as a follow up, are you single?’”

“No.”

“And as a follow-up to my follow-up, how willing are you to let me absolutely plow you into your mattress?”

Yaku’s cheeks flare red and he throws his fork at Kuroo. “You’re disgusting.”

“It’s your brain, not mine. You got to jump on that.”

“Oh yea, like how you jumped on Bokuto?”

“I did!”

“I was unaware that ‘jumping on him’ included four months of absolutely pitiful pining, not to mention forking over money you didn’t have to get a monthly gym membership with special one-on-one training support from a certain trainer.”

Kuroo melts down in his chair dramatically. “He’s so perfect, Yakkun. It takes time to die from seeing perfection and come back to life. He had to bring me back to this world with his enormous arms. And his smile. His laugh that, like, lights up my whole damn day. His chest. Good god, his fucking chest. He could stop a bus with it I swear.”

“You’re so done for.”

“I am.” Kuroo says the words uncharacteristically softly, a smile playing on his lips. “Oh and Yakkun, I forgot something.”

“What?”

“You’re a nerd.”

Yaku tosses his balled up burrito wrapper at him.

 

***

 

The Giant is buying cheese. 

He has no right to look this good in the middle of Yaku’s grocery store. This is where Yaku shops. Regularly. In sweatpants. It’s supposed to be a boring place. But then, suddenly he finds himself swallowing hard, his pulse quickening to the point that he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. 

One minute Yaku’s innocently holding a jar of instant coffee, rounds a corner, and then The Giant is only a few feet away, pursing his lips and comparing blocks of expensive cheese. 

He is so much taller than Yaku thought he was. God, he wants to climb him like a mountain. 

Up close, his features are so much sharper. Now Yaku will never be able to wipe from his memory the way The Giant’s bangs sweep gently across his forehead. His hair looks so fine, like it would pass through Yaku’s fingers like silk. As he carefully contemplates cheese, Yaku notices the way his eyes slant in a most unusual way. Yaku thinks it would almost be off-putting if they weren’t attached to him. On him, Yaku decides, they make everything so much more _tempting_.

Even though it’s threatening to snow outside, The Giant has the audacity to stand there in a black t-shirt and jeans. His arms look so defined, so strong somehow in the unflattering fluorescent lighting. Definitely an athlete. Yaku looks at his chest, his legs, gulping because he knows what’s underneath. He swears the entire store can read his filthy mind.

Yaku’s feet are rooted in place. He thanks the gods above that he doesn’t drop the coffee in his hands or blurt out something indecent, but he wishes he could do anything more than just stare. The man’s a foreign marble statue. He’s probably gawked at all the time. It must be so irritating. 

Yaku wants to clarify, yell something like, “I’m only staring because you’re so hot, not because you’re different, and it’s fine because I already stare at you all the time and also I’m not a creep.” But it’s unnecessary. The Giant puts back a block of cheese, puts another in his basket, and turns on his heels to walk down the aisle in the other direction.

An older woman locks eyes with Yaku and raises a questioning eyebrow. His cheeks flush and he puts his head down, spins around, and barrels towards the check out without getting everything on his list.

 

***

 

Throughout the break, Yaku sees The Giant around the neighborhood. It’s as though seeing him at the grocery store broke the dam and now that silver-haired angel is everywhere he looks. At the grocery store. At the cafe where Yaku treats himself to coffee he can’t really afford because it cheers him up. At the mailboxes outside his building where The Giant just jogs right past him like it’s nothing, like Yaku isn’t going to remember the sound of him panting as he runs past.

Yaku’s almost thankful when break is over because at least there will be some respite from his thirst when he’s busy with classes.

He settles back into his normal routine seamlessly. Wake up at 6:30. Think about exercising. Hit snooze instead. Get out of bed at 7:00. Get ready and eat a good breakfast (a must). Bike to the university. Arrive at his department’s building, hike up to the third floor to the linguistics “cave” (a dark, corner office he shares with two adjunct professors). Furiously re-read the chapters he assigned for today in his Intro to Linguistics course so he doesn’t go off on excitable tangents, but instead sticks to the planned basics. Teach. Attend his own classes. Eat lunch at the cafeteria. More classes. Grade assignments. Plan lessons. Go home. Eat a lame dinner. Work on thesis and coursework. Fall asleep on the couch. Move to the bed. Repeat the next day.

He makes it almost a full-week without running in to The Giant in person (he still blissfully leaves his windows wide-open, even at night), until Friday morning.

He accidentally oversleeps and throws off his whole morning. Once he's at the university, Yaku rushes to lock up his bike and start his mad dash to his office. He slings his bag over his shoulder and speed walks down the bumpy brick walkway past the library, constantly checking his watch and willing it to be earlier than it actually is. He looks up just in time to avoid colliding with someone. Yaku apologizes and the stranger brushes it off and walks away. Yaku closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to calm down.

When he opens them, The Giant is walking out of the library with an armful of books.

Yaku freezes in place. The Giant looks in his direction. And smiles. Oh god, it does things to Yaku’s chest. He suddenly has to remind himself how to breathe. In and out, he tells himself, in and out. He does an okay job. He’s only choking a little.

“Hey!” The Giant speaks. He takes a step closer. Yaku blinks and tries to ground himself in the present. “Could you tell me where the student union is?”

His voice. It’s so much different than Yaku imagined. He thought he’d have some smooth, deep voice, thick like honey. Instead it’s bouncy and light. Somehow Yaku likes it even better. Oh, and the ways his eyes get bigger when he talks? Amazing.

Suddenly Yaku realizes The Giant is still talking. He tries to focus.

“--supposed to meet somewhere in there but I haven’t been anywhere but the gym, the library, and the Biology building since I got here -- then I got all turned around and went to the library instead. So now I’m late but I have all these books -- so anyway, where’s the student union?”

The Giant rambles. Yaku watches his mouth the entire time he’s speaking. To listen better, of course, that’s all. When that beautiful mouth closes, Yaku’s eyes drift back up, all the way up, to The Giant’s green eyes. They’re magnificently green. And expectant. Why do they look that way? Oh yea, he asked a question. What was it? Directions to somewhere --

Yaku inhales sharply. Something tickles his throat and he coughs. The Giant’s green eyes look just the littlest bit softer, concerned. “If you turn back that way,” Yaku points and tries to make his voice sound normal, “go straight past the fountain, hang a right, you’ll pass the big cafeteria and it’ll be on the left.”

He did it. Yaku is very proud of himself. He stands up a little straighter, manages a grin. He helped The Giant and made words and everything. He’s pretty sure his face even looks normal right now. He is not at all melting because he can’t stop staring at those green eyes. Eye contact is normal. He’s just being polite. Very polite.

“Oh thanks!” The Giant’s smile grows impossibly larger. Yaku feels tingly in the tips of his fingers. “Have a good one!” The Giant’s words dance out from between those lips like music as he awkwardly waves his thanks while still trying to hang on to all the books in his arms.

And then Yaku is watching his back until he turns a corner.

Yaku’s watch buzzes. Class. He has to teach a class. He won’t make it to his office today, but he can make it to class. He shakes his head, blinks, and resolves to have an absolutely routine rest of the day.


	2. The Giant Has a Name.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaku speaks to The Giant.

Three times a week, Yaku gets lunch with his friend Kai in the cafeteria in between both of their department’s buildings. Today, though, Kai texts him to say that he’s sick and stuck in bed. Yaku replies quickly (a mix of “get well soon” and “ha, I bet you’re hungover”) then enters the noisy cafeteria with plans of putting on headphones and working through his lunch. Maybe if he makes enough progress he can actually enjoy some of his weekend.

He’s mostly forgotten about the morning. Mostly.

He settles in at a table in a corner and starts methodically taking out his laptop and notebooks and arranging everything around his food so he can still eat while he works. He clicks his tongue in annoyance as the noise around him seems to grow louder with every second. Why is everyone yelling? It’s lunch. Undergrads, he huffs as he plugs in his earbuds and begins the frustrating process of untangling the wires.

Yaku hears a loud “hey!” and doubles his efforts to try to untangle them as quickly as possible to block out all of the noise.

He hears it again, closer this time. He gives up on detangling and slips in one earbud. He’s just about to put in the other when he sees a hand come down on the opposite end of the table. Yaku’s ready to roundhouse kick whoever is disturbing his lunch. Knitting his brows together, he looks up and tries to make his face as intimidating as possible.

The Giant is looking down at him, eyes bright and smile wide. “It’s you! From this morning!”

Yaku blinks as his brain reboots.

“Thanks for the help. I still don’t know my way around.” The Giant pulls out the chair across from Yaku and flops down into it, his bag shifting off his shoulders and onto the floor. He’s dressed in a bright red university sweatshirt, but he’s pushed up the sleeves and his defined forearms are on display.

As soon as he sits down, Yaku’s brain completely short-circuits. His thoughts are fuzzy and jumbled. He’s pretty sure his mouth is wide open and he wants to close it, really he does, but it won’t.

“I don’t know a lot of people yet.” The Giant places his elbows on the table and rests his head in his upturned palm. He smiles again. “My name’s Lev. Can I sit here for a bit? I hate sitting by myself.”

Yaku reminds himself what a nod looks like and does it, all while willing his face to relax. He smiles back weakly and cringes inside. “Sure?”

His brain finally processes everything he just heard. The Giant has a name. Lev. The Gi-- Lev also smiles a lot and is the kind of person who will just walk on over and sit with a complete stranger to have some company. If it were any other person, Yaku would have told them off by now. Maybe politely, maybe not so politely, but he would have made it clear that he intended to work and made sure they took the hint.

Yaku’s almost positive he could handle this better if he wasn’t acutely aware of what Lev looks like mostly naked. He blinks hard, like he’s trying to erase his memories for the moment and remember how to have a conversation. “I’m Yaku.”

Lev sits up straighter and reaches his free hand across the top of Yaku’s laptop. “Nice to meet you. For real this time.”

Slowly, Yaku raises his hand and contributes his half of one of the most awkward handshakes he’s ever had. His arm’s bent at a weird angle and their hands don’t line up right the first time. They try again and Yaku’s suddenly all too aware of how sweaty his palm is. 

Everything is made worse - or better - by Yaku registering just how large his hands are. It nearly swallows his own completely. He blinks hard trying, desperately trying, not to think about how those hands would feel on his skin.

It’s hot in here. Too hot. Why is the cafeteria so hot today? They should turn off the heat.

“So what are you studying?”

Yaku’s grateful for the distraction from his reeling thoughts. “Linguistics. I’m getting my Masters.”

“Oh, cool! I just transferred. Studying biology. See, I started my degree in Russia but I didn’t really like being there ‘cause I went to junior high and high school here in Japan, and actually didn’t do all that great in Russia. Felt weird there, which is weird, ‘cause I always sort of felt weird here, but, like, less weird, you know?”

Yaku nods robotically. He does not know, not at all, but he wants Lev to keep talking. Normally with any of his friends, Yaku would have cracked some snide joke about their rambling (he does it with Kuroo almost daily) but this time Yaku finds he wants to listen. He wants to listen to any sound that comes out of that mouth. His lips are sort of thin, Yaku notices, not in a bad way, just interesting. He wonders if they’re smooth like Lev’s hands.

“So I’m starting over. Kind of. Not a lot of my credits transferred, but that’s okay. New start, right?”

“Yea. Fresh starts can be good.” Yaku manages. His voice sounds strange in his ears. Is that how he always sounds?

“Exactly! It’s hard, though, ‘cause all of my classmates are a little younger than me and I already stick out enough. You seem around my age. Do you normally get lunch around this time?”

“Yes.” Yaku’s brain has reached critical error levels and has forgotten how to have a conversation, but he’s still certain this isn’t how an “I just met you randomly” conversation normally goes. 

Who is this guy? _What_ is this guy? Is he really the same creature he’s been gawking at for weeks?

“Cool, maybe I can run into you again soon. Oh, and any recommendations for the weekend? Like what to do? I’ve just been at my sister’s house playing with my baby niece for the past few weekends. It’s fun and all but I feel kind of lame.”

“I don’t know.” Yaku braves a look into those green eyes again. He clears his throat and continues. “I don’t do a whole lot. I catch up on classwork and do lesson plans.”

“So you teach, too? You must be smart.” Lev leans back against his chair and drops his arms from the table to rest in his lap.

Yaku’s chest clenches and he feels a blush spreading under his shirt. He wills it to not reach any higher. He’s already worried that the tips of his ears might be betraying him. They feel warm. “No, just part of my scholarship. I get reduced tuition, they get a very underpaid teacher.”

Lev smiles and then tilts his head a little to the side. “So you don’t do anything on the weekends?”

“I mean, I do.” Yaku feels a hint of defensiveness. “Friends come to my place or I go to theirs. I don’t really _go out_.”

“That’s good, too. I mean, I like going out and having fun, but not alone and I’m too old to hang out with the people in my classes and I haven’t met a bunch of other people yet. It’s always been a little harder for me, you know, but I guess it just takes time, like anything. I work hard at being super friendly, but I guess I’ll just have another weekend of being the best uncle ever.” He sits up a little and grins again, but Yaku notices that the joy doesn’t reach his eyes, not completely like before.

Yaku bites his lip. Is he supposed to invite him somewhere? Is he looking to hang out? They don’t even know each other. Well, Yaku’s sure learned a lot about his apartment crush, but Lev doesn’t know anything about him.

As a stall, Yaku reaches over to his abandoned lunch and pulls the tray closer. Lev’s eyes grow wider. “Oh yea, you need to eat. Sorry I just barged in here. You don’t mind do you? I should have asked.”

“You did ask. It was okay.” True, he asked when he had already settled in, but Yaku’s not checking. Not with Lev, at least. Not yet.

“Oh good.” Lev sits up a little straighter and moves to pull off his sweatshirt. His t-shirt underneath rides up as he does and Yaku drops his spoon at the close-up view of toned abs. It clatters on his tray and it startles him quickly enough so he can close his gaping mouth before Lev looks at him again.

Yaku manages to eat his lunch, strange but enticing distractions and all. The whole time, Lev continues to share details of his life. Yaku tries, very hard, to offer some things about himself to even things out. It’s already so unbalanced since Yaku knows almost every detail of the other man’s physique. He feels a little guilty.

Lev shares that he grew up in Japan and his Japanese is far better than his Russian. Yaku leans in to his linguistic background as he grapples for comfortable topics and teaches Lev about some of the structural differences between each language. Lev eats up every fact excitedly and asks a bunch of questions in return.

Yaku learns that Lev moved back for a lot of reasons, but one was that his older sister just had her first baby. He wanted to be around all the time. Yaku tries his best not to turn into goo at the way Lev looks when he talks about his family. He changes the subject and talks about growing up in Miyagi. Lev asks him a ton of questions about that, too. Yaku does his best to answer, but he feels way too warm and short of breath under Lev’s gaze.

He finds himself talking more than he usually would with a complete stranger. Hot guys who overshare and make him feel like he’s interesting don’t come around all the time. 

When his watch buzzes, he’s surprised how much time has passed by so quickly. He’s weirdly annoyed with himself when he announces, “I have a class soon, so-”

“Oh, of course. Thanks for keeping me company!” Lev beams. “Could I get your number? You’re, like, the first person that’s sat down and talked with me for a while here. I won’t call! Just, like, if you want to eat lunch together next week. You know, around the same time.”

Yaku’s fairly sure his brain is just incapable of processing anything anymore. Nothing Lev does makes any sense. Any other time he would have kicked the other person to the moon by now. 

But he also can’t remember the last time someone asked for his number.

“Yea, okay.” He replies but tries to quiet his excitedly staccato heartbeat. It’s a lost cause, though. Now Yaku knows his attraction is no longer about just how good Lev looks when he’s doing crunches in his apartment with hardly anything on. No, he’s learned way too much about him to only think of him that way. And Lev’s clearly just looking for a lunch acquaintance, maybe a friend. That’s it.

As Yaku packs up his things, Lev gets out his phone and has Yaku recite his number. A few seconds later Yaku’s phone is buzzing on the table and a series of emoji flash on his screen. “There, now you have mine, too.” Lev smiles. Yaku melts.

He stands up and tries to maintain his composure but he has no idea how to end any of this. It’s as though this entire conversation has been a journey through uncharted waters and he sees land but has no idea how to get there. Does he even want to leave? Of course he does -- right? As attractive as Lev is, this whole thing has been anxiety-inducing. In a bad way. Maybe? He stayed, so it can’t have been --

“Whoa, you’re short.” Lev blurts. “When you stand up you’re about as tall as me when I’m sitting down.”

Yaku feels his temper start to boil inside him. He stuffs it back down. “I’m not that short.”

Lev just throws his head back and laughs. “No, it’s a good thing. I like it.”

That stubborn blush threatens to stretch higher, up his neck and onto his face. Yaku feels it climbing. Why? He berates himself. He just got called short and the silver-haired demigod rambles too much and overshares all the time.

Yaku nods his head quickly and mutters a quick, “See you around.” He doesn’t look back behind him when Lev cheerfully wishes him a great weekend. He also doesn’t think about Lev’s abs or the definition in his arms. And he’s definitely not going to read into Lev saying “I like it” for the rest of the day. Nope, not at all.

 

***

Yaku watches his phone vibrates on the counter across from where he’s scooping rice into a bowl for dinner. Kuroo’s name flashes and he picks it up.

“You free tonight?” Kuroo asks immediately.

“Hello to you, too. And what, is Bokuto out of town or something?” Yaku cradles the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he throws the vegetables and tofu he sauteed together on top of the rice.

“Why can’t I just want to spend time with my friend?”

He plops down in one of his kitchen chairs. “Because usually you spend Friday nights with him.”

Kuroo cackles on the other end. “Can’t it be both?”

“Your place or mine?”

“I’ll come over there. I don’t want to clean.”

“See ya soon, then.”

“Yea, give me twenty.”

When he hears the knock on his door, Yaku’s sitting at the corner of his couch where he can just barely see into The Gian-- Lev’s living room. Throughout the evening he’s only caught glimpses of those abs he saw up close this afternoon.

He hasn’t been able to look, really look, since he got home. When he watered his plants he stared at their leaves and tried very hard not to think about the way Lev’s voice sounded when he was happy and talking about his family. Whenever Yaku walked past his window he averted his gaze but the habit of curiously peeking is already too well-established. He can’t completely ignore it. They might have spoken, his number might be in his phone, but Lev is still a specimen to behold.

Secretly. Covertly. Only in little bits.

“I come bearing gifts!” Kuroo announces as he walks in, kicks off his shoes, and walks the short distance to Yaku’s kitchen where he gently sets down a bag. “A vendor at work has a side project where he’s started distilling gin, so I hope you’re thirsty.” He grabs two mugs from Yaku’s cabinet.

“Homemade gin? Isn’t that a little weird? Or dangerous?” Yaku scrunches up his nose as the thought. He also can’t decide if it’s heartwarming or annoying as hell that Kuroo uses his kitchen as if it were his own.

“No, no.” Kuroo shakes his head as he grabs one of Yaku’s old pots and fills it with a thin layer of water. “His family runs a whiskey distillery and he wanted to try his hand at making some other liquors. Come on, I’ve tried it. You’ll like it.” He twists his neck around to wink at Yaku before getting back to his task with earnest determination.

“Gin tastes like making out with a tree.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Yaku watches as Kuroo pours equal parts honey from a cheesy-looking honey bear plastic bottle into the pot and slowly stirs it as the mixture simmers. Before long, the concoction has turned into a sweet-smelling syrup. Kuroo pours a little into the bottom of each mug, followed by a generous helping of gin, topped with a lemon that he squeezes into each.

“Perfect for cold weather.” Kuroo explains proudly as he holds out a mug for Yaku to take.

And even though the smell of juniper still hits Yaku’s nose with a pungent punch, the scent of honey and lemon make his shoulders relax.

They settle onto the couch and Yaku turns on the TV, not really caring what’s on it.

“I started making these when I got sick a few weeks ago. Cures a lot of ills. Speaking of which,” Kuroo gently takes a sip from his mug but apparently decides it’s still too hot, “how was your first week back?”

“Not bad.” Lev. “I hate teaching 100 level courses.” His name is Lev. “But it’s nice teaching the same course again, less work.” He’s studying biology. “And I made some progress on my thesis.” He’s half Russian.

“Well, don’t you sound like you have your shit together.” Kuroo grins.

Yaku laughs. “Wouldn't that be nice.” He called me smart.

The comfortable back and forth continues. They saw each other earlier in the week for dinner so there’s not much to talk about, but the whole time Yaku’s brain is on a constant loop -- “Ask me about the guy across the alley. I met him today. Make fun of my love life so I can talk about him. I want to tell you his name. I want to talk about how his number is in my phone because while I don’t really want to think about it for too long, I also want to scream about it for a second.”

But it never comes up. The one time Yaku wants Kuroo to tease him over his chronic singleness, something he does literally every other time he’s here, Kuroo just happily watches two actions movies with him while keeping the drinks flowing. How disappointingly thoughtful of him.

By the time Kuroo leaves for the night, Yaku’s body is warm and light from the gin, but his mind is torn. The stress from the work week was thankfully lost somewhere in between the hundredth car explosion they watched and his third drink, but he’s filled to the brim with thoughts about the silver-haired hottie and it makes him feel too warm, too anxious, and too hopelessly optimistic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Yaku, what are you going to do now? (๑ゝω╹๑)  
> And Lev, you're just too open and precious.
> 
> Chat with me on Twitter - [@HeyMellieJellie](https://twitter.com/HeyMellieJellie).


	3. The Giant is Persistent.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chats, cats, and a positively lovely view

The Giant is persistent, if nothing else. It’s how Yaku finds himself across from Lev at lunch once again the next week. Truthfully a part of him wanted to see Lev again, but Yaku didn’t like what happened to himself when Lev was around. Yaku knows he’s a competent adult. He pays rent. He’s getting his masters. He can cook. But put a six-thousand foot fit man in front of him whose interested in what he has to say and suddenly he’s a sweating, anxious idiot. 

After the eighth text in a row Yaku gave up trying to dodge it and just agreed. 

“You can use me.” Lev bolts upright in his chair, nearly knocking over his soda. 

“What?” Yaku stutters, a stray carrot sliver from his salad traitorously slips from his lips and lands back on his plate.

“For your research. I speak two languages. You just said you’re looking at multilingual people and the possible connection to linguistic rel - relation - rela --” Lev purses his lips in thought.

God he’s cute. “Relativity.”

“Yea!” One of Lev’s excitable legs knocks into the bottom of the table. Yaku holds onto his drink so it doesn’t spill. “I don’t know much about it, but I’d like to learn.”

Yaku slides everything on his side of the table back into place. “Well,” he starts, not really sure where to go with this. On the one hand, he doesn’t know many bilingual people personally, but he’s also not about to sit here and tie himself to someone who makes him feel jittery all the time. “I’m still just in my literature review right now, but if I need qualitative support--”

“Do you have any books?”

Yaku blinks to force his brain to switch gears. Lev does that a lot - changing subjects on a whim. Yaku swears Lev’s train of thought is actually five trains running at top speed all at once. “Tons. Why?”

“Can I borrow one?” 

Oh yes, there goes the sweatshirt sleeves. Push them up, push them all the way up. “Why?” Yaku asks again, staring at those forearms. Who has such strong forearms?

Lev leans forward on the little cafeteria table, dropping his elbow heavily and making their plates and cups abruptly shift towards him. “Because I want to know more.”

Yaku glances up and meets those almond-shaped eyes, open wide with anticipation. He looks like a puppy waiting to be pat on the head for doing well. Yaku’s heart starts thudding in his chest. He can say with certainty that he’s never met anyone like this man. His eagerness is unparalleled. “Don’t you have enough to read with your own studies?”

Waving his hand dismissively, Lev relaxes back into his chair and replies, “I mean, of course, but I’m not working so I have loads of time. Why not study something else? Plus, then I could talk to you about the things you’re into.” Lev’s head tilts to the side, ever so slightly, and Yaku’s mind wipes clean. Again. For probably the tenth time during this short lunch. 

Lev keeps doing these little things, little impossibly adorable things. They don’t fit Yaku’s image of the toned demigod on the third floor, but they do make him better. Uncomfortably, wonderfully better.

As his brain restarts, words leap from Yaku’s mouth before he can catch them. “You’re weird.” 

The huge smile across Lev’s lips slips to the side, just a little. 

Yaku feels a pinch his heart. He bites his lip hard, lets it go, then adds, “I like it.”

 

***

 

“Yaku-san! Here’s your book!” Lev sing-songs the words as his long legs close the distance between them quickly. Once he reaches Yaku outside the cafeteria, he bends over and holds the book out in front of him with two open palms like it’s some kind of sacred text.

“You finished it already?” Yaku takes it and Lev pops right back up, reminding Yaku of just how majestically tall he is. 

“It was interesting.”

Yaku thinks back to the dry chapters with endless lists of APA-style citations. Sure it proved fruitful for his research needs so he found it interesting, but how would someone else possibly find it easy to read in a single weekend? He has to be lying and looking for a gentle way out. “Really?” Yaku raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Yea, I really liked when it talked about colors, right? So like in Russian, we don’t have one word for blue, like just blue, like you have in Japanese. We have two - one for a light, kind of sky blue and another word for a darker blue. Though I guess in Japanese, blue also has historic ties to the word for green, so I don’t know. It was just cool.”

The tension instantly melts from Yaku’s shoulders. He feels that familiar pitter-patter in his heart that he gets when he’s on the edge of leaping off the metaphorical cliff into linguistic nerd heaven. “Right? There’s a high probability that we’re all seeing the same colors due to biology, but our perceptions of them, our ability to express those differences in hues, is shaped by our language.”

“Oh yea, ‘cause we have the same eyes, more or less.” Lev tilts his head back and to the side while he thinks and Yaku studies the long line of his graceful neck. “But does that mean I can talk about those kinds of things more? Because I have two languages worth of words?” He looks back down at Yaku.

“That’s what I think! That’s, like, my whole hypothesis.” Despite himself, Yaku finds himself speaking with his hands as he’s allowed to talk about his favorite subject. “Except the field is pretty saturated in color study, pun intended, so I’m looking into other facets of language.”

Lev chuckles and the sound makes Yaku feel light on his feet.

“Like maybe weather? We have a ton of words for snow in Russian. Way more than in Japanese.” Lev starts to walk towards the cafeteria door and holds it open for Yaku.

Yaku feels a smile stretch across his face as he walks inside to get lunch. “Oh yea? Like what?”

 

***

 

“Alright, fess up. Who’s on the other end of that text?” Kuroo mutes the TV and the movie goes silent just before another big explosion as the heroes escape an abandoned warehouse. 

Startled, Yaku’s eyes snap away from his phone and he looks at his friend. Kuroo clicks his tongue and turns his head to face Yaku, his eyes not glancing away for even a moment. Yaku shuts off his screen and lets his phone drop to the couch cushion. 

Lev’s been chatting with him since yesterday. Over the past two weeks, those first two lunches stretched into more. And sometimes, Yaku reasons, conversations just didn’t get finished in time, so it makes sense that they’d text. That’s all that’s happening. Friendly texts. Constant friendly texts.

Nevermind that Lev’s also sending him pictures of his niece and that Yaku likes to sneak a peek of Lev on his couch as they text back and forth. If Yaku can ignore the way his heartbeat pounds loudly in his ears when he feels his phone vibrate, then he can just as easily ignore any thoughts about why Lev wants to talk to him so much in the first place.

“Just someone from class.” Yaku lies, knowing it’s a waste. He’s going to tell Kuroo. First, because he’s dying to talk about about it to someone before he explodes. Second, because Kuroo usually gets what he wants.

Even if Yaku makes him work for it first.

“And the bullshit-o-meter has determined that is a lie.” Kuroo shifts his body and brings his long legs up onto the couch. While stretching like a tired cat, his feet land on Yaku’s lap.

Yaku scrunches up his face and shoves them off. “You need to get it checked, then.”

Kuroo laughs and points a finger in Yaku’s direction. “Your ears are red. You’re either horny or lying or both.”

Without meaning to, Yaku’s hands fly up to touch his ears. They’re warm and he feels the blush spreading. He quickly shifts his expression into something more annoyed than embarrassed. He sneers and narrows his eyes. “Oh, ‘cause you’re so good at reading people.”

“I am. I’m a bartender.” Kuroo splays his fingers across his chest dramatically. “I basically have a doctorate in reading people.”

“Says the idiot who was sure Bokuto wasn’t interested.”

“Says the other idiot who’s trying to get my attention away from that phone.” At that comment, Kuroo lunges himself at Yaku’s side of the couch with his arms outstretched. In a moment of panic, Yaku shoves his phone away and it clatters on the floor a few feet from them.

Kuroo freezes mid-pounce and a cackle bubbles out of him, slowly at first then building to that full-blown rooster laugh of his.

“Get off me.” Yaku pushes on Kuroo’s chest.

“I’m not touching you.” Kuroo teases like some five-year-old. He settles back on his side, but not before messing up Yaku’s hair.

Yaku scowls and does his best to fix it. He mutters, “You’re impossible. The maturity of a 5th grader.”

“Now I’m really interested.” Kuroo says, eyeballing the phone that was shot across the room. “Who’s got you so hot and bothered?”

“No one.”

“Does Yakkun have a crush?” Yaku reaches for the remote to turn up the movie’s volume to drown out Kuroo’s nonsense, but his friend gets to it first and waves it over his own head as the taunts keep flowing. “Who’s got little Yakkun all hot under the collar?”

In a flash Yaku brings his feet off the floor and swiftly kicks both of his heels into Kuroo’s thigh. Kuroo howls in pain but can’t stop laughing. Eventually the laughter spreads and even Yaku is snickering behind the frustrated facade he tries to maintain.

“You really want to know?”

Kuroo hums a deep breath out, calming back down, and nods sharply. “I really do. And not just because I want to pick on you mercilessly. It’s cute, Yakkun.”

“Not cute.”

“Fine. Not cute. Disgusting. Hideous. Revolting. Can you just tell me?”

Yaku lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s third floor guy.”

“What?” Kuroo’s eyes open wide as he sits up. “You met him?”

“Yea he goes to our uni. Just transfered.” Yaku’s voice betrays him and grows a little softer. “His name’s Lev.”

“What? When? Also how?”

“Two weeks ago. Randomly ran into him, gave him directions. He recognized me later and basically invited himself to lunch. And then that kept happening. The lunch. The lunch kept happening.” Yaku delivers the facts and is proud of himself for only stumbling a little. He’s glad Kuroo’s choosing to no longer point out what a deep shade of pink his face has become.

“And now you two are texting?” Kuroo practically yells with excitement.

“Lower your voice. My walls are paper thin. But yes.”

Kuroo leans back against the couch. “Whew, this is a lot to take in as your emotional guardian. I’m very proud.”

“Stupid.”

“I’d ask if he’s hot but I already know.”

Yaku can’t resist. “And?”

Kuroo shoots him a look. “Not my type, but I do have eyes.” Something mischievous flashes in Kuroo’s eyes. “Does he know you stare at him all day?” He darts off the couch and starts towards the discarded phone.

Then it’s Yaku’s turn to yell. “No!”

 

***

 

All things considered, it’s been an excellent week. Yaku felt prepared for all of the lessons he taught, his research advisor told him he’s making “fairly adequate progress,” and he’s texted with Lev everyday, though they haven’t been able to meet up for lunch again. 

Honestly, Yaku thinks, it’s for the best. Now that they’re constantly texting Yaku has no idea what to say face-to-face. The more familiar they’ve gotten, the more he’s worried about how he’ll act the next time he sees Lev. 

It’s clear Lev’s just looking for friends on campus. Yaku’s the only one afflicted with feelings. And they’re messy feelings at that. He expected to feel that most basic, lizard-brain attraction, but then Lev had to swoop in there with pictures of his cute baby niece, that stupid smile, and a genuine interest in everything Yaku says.

So it’s fine. Texting from a distance is good. Great even. Perfect as-is.

He’s in such a fine mood that he almost misses the fact that his back tire is completely flat until he starts to push it out of the bike rack. He stares at the useless tire and pinches his lips together hard. He sighs, deep from the depths of his soul, and shakes his shoulder bag down to the ground. He scoops it up with great effort and slams it into the small, metal basket at the front so he can begin the now much longer journey back to his place.

At least the weather’s okay and he’s got his headphones.

He’s zoning out contentedly, walking the path home on autopilot, when a tap on his shoulder nearly makes him leap out of his skin. He scrambles to keep a hold of his handlebars as he snatches out one earbud and snaps his head to the side.

Lev’s sweaty, heaving chest is right in front of his eyes. He looks up and, sure enough, that gigantic, unwavering smile is on full display, even if Lev is clearly trying to catch his breath.

Yaku makes a small, choked sound in the back of his throat and he prays Lev didn’t hear it with all the street noise in the background. It’s still absolutely jacket weather, but Lev’s standing there, mid-run, in a light t-shirt that clings to his body and shorts that might be fine on someone else, but on Lev they’re shorter than they should be. Yaku’s not complaining. He’s starting to enjoy the comforting, dumb haze he enters whenever Lev wipes his brain of intelligent thought.

“What’cha doing?”

“Walking home.”

“Oh!” Lev’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Do you live around here?” The elation in his voice is impossible to ignore.

“Yea, not far. Just straight down this road, then a right at the light.”

“No way! Me, too!”

Yaku knows. Oh, Yaku knows that fact so well already. He can’t help the images that flood his mind. Lev stripping the moment he gets home. Lev working out in brightly colored underwear. Lev texting him while watching TV on his couch. “Oh really?”

“I’m in a tall, grey building. The one with the white trim around all the windows and doors. You?”

For a split second, Yaku thinks about lying, about describing some other building than the one he lives in or saying he actually meant ‘left at the light,’ but he doesn’t. Distance might be easier, but he doesn’t actually want distance between Lev and himself. “I’m in the shorter, beige-y looking one. I think it’s right next to yours.”

“Ah, the older one? I always stop out front because a ton of cats hang out by your garbage.”

Yaku can’t help but sputter out a laugh. He knows exactly the cats Lev’s talking about. They’re clearly strays, more feral than anything else. They run in packs like wolves outside his building. “You like the garbage cats?”

“Of course. Their fur’s a little rough but they’re sweet. Sometimes I bring them food in my pocket.”

“The garbage cats let you touch them?” Yaku asks, amazed. He’s only ever been hissed at by the king of the garbage cats.

“Well yea.” Lev tilts his head to the side. Yaku’s starting to adore that expression he wears when he’s thinking. “Don’t you pet them, too?”

“Never. I can’t get within three feet of them. Which is hard because sometimes they block the entrance.”

Lev shakes his head. “No way, they’re super sweet. We can walk back together. I’ll show you.”

Yaku’s guts are all twisted up inside in the best and worst kinds of ways. It only intensifies when Lev jogs around to the other side of his bike and takes a hold of one handlebar to push with him. Like usual, Lev does most of the talking. Yaku listens and watches the way Lev’s expressive face rolls through the entire range of human emotions as he recounts stories from his week. When Yaku does talk he finds himself staring straight ahead so he can’t watch the way Lev’s eyes follow him intently.

When they get closer, Lev points and says, “I’m on the third floor. On the side that faces your apartment. Where are you?”

Another crossroads. Yaku could lie or - “I’m on the fourth floor.”

“Which side?” 

Lev sounds hopeful and Yaku has to take a breath before he can answer. “The one that faces your building.”

“No way. When we get upstairs, go to your window. I’ll wave to you!”

Lev starts to pick up his pace and head towards his building but Yaku stops him. “What about the cats?”

“Oh man, how could I forget?” Together they round a corner and, sure enough, the garbage cats are lazing in the sun out on the pavement out front like they own the place. Lev approaches first, getting low to the ground and reaching into his pocket. He takes out a small plastic bag and removes what looks like little chunks of lunch meat. The cats perk up and walk right over to him. As they snack they let Lev pet their little heads. A few steps back, Yaku watches in disbelief.

“Come on,” Lev looks over his shoulder at him, “see how nice they are?”

Yaku leans his bike against a wall and approaches slowly. The biggest cat eyes him warily, but stays still. He tentatively reaches out to pet a grey cat’s head. The grey cat backs up suddenly, stares at his hand, but then goes back to eating. He pets it once then quickly stands back up. He grabs a hold of his bike again and Lev wipes his hands off on his shorts and stands, too.

“Don’t forget! Wave to me, okay?”

Yaku doesn’t forget. The moment he unlocks his door he tries very hard not to dash to his window, but he can’t help himself. Lev’s already there, glancing around in search of Yaku. When he finally spots him, Lev waves like a madman with both hands. Yaku manages a small, restrained wave in return.

He’s a little relieved. His secret viewing party is over now that Lev knows he’s there, but that also means he doesn’t have to actively resist staring all the time. Now he knows he can’t, not unless he wants Lev to notice. And he definitely doesn’t want Lev to notice. Does he? Ugh no, it’s not like there’s anything remarkable about himself anyway. Surely nothing for Lev to want to notice.

When Yaku grabs hold of his thoughts again, his gaze returns to that third floor apartment. Lev’s back is to him now, but he’s still close to the window. His long, lean arms are reaching back behind his head to grab onto his sweaty t-shirt. The fabric creeps up his back so slowly. Yaku feels his mouth going dry as those strong back muscles are revealed little by little. When the shirt disappears Yaku screams inwardly that he needs to walk away now, but he’s rooted in place.

Next are those tiny shorts. Lev runs his hands down his sides on the way and tucks his thumbs into the waistband before pulling them down at a tantalizing pace. Oh god, why is he going so slowly? This isn’t how it usually goes. Lev usually whips off his clothes by the door and throws himself on the couch. 

Those little shorts inch down his strong, slender legs until they finally reach Lev’s feet. He kicks them off and takes his time bending back over to pick them up. At that angle, Yaku can only think of the many reasons why he’d like to see Lev bent over like that. Yaku’s heart is racing and he feels sweat starting to form at his temples. Lev rolls his back as he stands back up and then he strolls across the length of his large living room window until he disappears from view.

He shouldn’t be watching. It’s not right to watch. But Lev had to know that was a possibility. They just waved to one another. No, no - Lev probably thought Yaku walked right away after that. Like anyone else would. Like anyone not dying of thirst staring at him would have done.

Unless - 

Yaku’s phone vibrates in his back pocket. He jumps a little and clumsily reaches for it. A text lights up his screen.

Lev>> Want to see a movie this weekend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oya oya oya? (๑・ω-)～♡"
> 
> Thank you for still reading! It's been fun dipping into writing a different ship and I just love Lev so much. I hope I'm doing Yaku's voice justice. I try to find that balance of "I want to destroy everyone" but also "I want the best for everyone" that Yaku exudes in the manga/anime.
> 
> Chat with me on Twitter - [@HeyMellieJellie](https://twitter.com/HeyMellieJellie).


	4. The Giant Likes Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic with a side of confessions.

“Oh, he’s definitely into you.” Bokuto announces like it’s obvious. He and Kuroo have only sort of listened to Yaku’s half-screeched demands to get away from the window. Right now. Before Lev sees the two of them staring.

Yaku’s pressed into the back of his couch looking mortified but ready to kill. “Get away,” he hisses again, “I don’t want him to see two ugly idiots staring at him from my apartment.”

Kuroo whips his head around but doesn’t move. “Offense.”

“To which part?” Yaku sneers.

“The ugly part.” He shoots back and runs his fingers dramatically through his ridiculous hair. “But yea,” he turns back around to look at whatever Lev’s doing as Yaku sinks deeper into his couch, “I agree with Bo. He’s into you.”

“Stop talking about it.” He groans and feels the urge to kick someone tingling through his legs. He doesn’t know Bokuto well enough. He’s going to have to kick Kuroo. Once he gets closer. There’s no way he’s getting off this couch, not when he’s been avoiding the window as much as he can since Lev invited him to see a movie this weekend. They picked Saturday.

Which is tomorrow.

Oh god.

“Why? It’s a good thing!” Bokuto smiles and, mercifully, leaves the window to flop his body onto the couch on the opposite end. He pats his knee and looks like some kind of wild-haired father figure. “It’s something to be happy about, isn’t it?”

“No. Yes. No. You don’t know all of it. Also you’re wrong.”

“About what?” Bokuto blinks.

Yaku slumps against the armrest and doesn’t answer.

Kuroo joins them, plopping down in the middle seat and jostling Yaku’s body as he settles in closer to Bokuto. Yaku takes advantage of all the movement and kicks the back of Kuroo’s ankle as he gets comfortable.

“What’s that for?” He shrieks.

Yaku just shoots him a murderous look in return.

“I come over here, validate your intense thirst for the hottie across the way while also confirming that he likes you--”

“You don’t know that.” Yaku interrupts, speaking more to the armrest than Kuroo.

“--and I get a swift kick as payment for all my kindness.”

“How would you know if he was into me?” Yaku crinkles up his nose and stares at the two of them.

“Dude.” Bokuto says softly.

“Bro.” Kuroo adds, looking right at Yaku even though he tries to turn away. “No one walks around their apartment like that -- swinging their hips around, taking way too long to pick things up, straight up flexing and stretching in front of an open window -- unless someone they want to be watching is watching.”

“But why would he care if I was watching? I’m--” Yaku cuts himself off, not knowing how to answer it. The rest of the sentence sounds so disgustingly pitiful inside his head, but it’s all he can think about, “--me.” He digs his face a little harder into the armrest and wills himself not to look at the expressions on Bokuto and Kuroo’s faces.

The room is quiet for a while until Kuroo shifts on the couch and loudly declares, “ _Exactly_. You’re you, Yakkun.”

 

***

 

There are currently three pairs of pants, seven shirts, and two different jackets laid out on Yaku’s bed. He’s also pondering his choice of underwear - not that anyone would see it, no one’s going to see it, not like that, just - he groans out loud in his bedroom. 

Everything he owns is so boring. Either it screams “I’m sitting at home by myself and no one needs to see the holes in these sweatpants” or “I’m your TA - please take me seriously and listen to me in class or I’ll feel bad about it later.” Probably Lev has a whole closet filled with things he wears just on the weekends. Fashionable things. Young people things. Hot people things. Lev’s so out of his league.

Which is a ridiculous thought.

Because this isn’t a date.

Lev’s not just out of his league. Lev’s participating in the hotness Olympics and Yaku’s some tired, overworked man watching the games at home while eating take out for dinner. Yaku groans again, louder this time. He’s never had this much trouble picking out clothes. Everyday he finds a clean shirt, some clean-ish pants, puts them on, and he leaves. Easy.

This isn’t easy.

This is a movie with Lev on a Saturday evening.

With annoyingly shaky hands, he buttons a sky blue shirt and puts a navy cardigan overtop. Pantsless, he dashes the few short steps to his bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror and cringes. Nope. Old man, old man, old man. He sprints back, takes off the cardigan, and tosses it across the room. He slips on a favorite, loose black zip-up hoodie instead. Now he’s a good mix of fancy and sloppy. It will balance everything. Everything.

Yaku has kept away from his windows all day because he absolutely cannot look at Lev getting ready. If he does that, then he’ll sweat right through the button down he decided was his trendiest - and then where will he be? Lev’s probably not even getting ready yet. Yaku still has almost an hour until the time they decided to meet outside their apartments.

He decides to put on his second favorite pair of jeans, the ones that are a little stiff from not being worn as often, and paces in between his bedroom and his kitchen. He stops, taps his foot in front of his electric kettle. One hand reaches for a packet of instant coffee and he rhythmically taps it against his countertop. 

Yaku shakes his head. More caffeine is probably a bad idea. With the other hand he reaches for his box of assorted teas. Several spill on the counter as he pulls it down. He swears and picks out a teabag of chamomile. The packaging has a painting of a woman staring out across a beautiful vista of lush, green hills and valleys. That woman knows what she’s doing. She’s not stressing out about which shirt to wear. She’s got it together.

He nods decisively. He will drink this tea and get it together.

 

***

 

Yaku’s proud of the fact that he is putting one foot in front of the other confidently on their walk to the station. Lev excitedly rambles about a new topic he covered in one of his biology courses and Yaku listens. Truly he is listening, but he also has to remind himself to walk like a human, to not worry about what his legs are doing, to not think about how he takes two steps for each one of Lev’s.

Tonight The Giant is fully clothed but it’s almost more distracting because he just looks so effortlessly hot. His hair is the same, though perhaps a bit tidier. He’s in simple, soft-looking jeans and well-worn black and white sneakers. He’s wearing a t-shirt from some brand that Yaku bets is a big deal to people who know about clothes. 

But then Lev has the audacity to throw on some fancy, expensive-looking, well-tailored, deep navy pea coat overtop. It shouldn’t work, but like everything else with Lev, what makes no sense seems to work just fine. Effortless. God.

The subway is packed when they get there. Yaku’s grateful when Lev guides the discussion towards his research again. He shares how he followed Lev’s suggestion and looked into the different ways language potentially shapes humans’ ability to perceive and describe their environment -- like with the weather. 

“I used your suggestion, you know, like all the words you had for snow.” Lev smiles so wide Yaku thinks it must hurt his cheeks. He can’t help but smile back. Date or not, Lev is undoubtedly delightful to be around.

Linguistics. That’s safe territory. Yaku feels his shoulders relaxing and he no longer has to think about what his legs are doing as they wait in line to catch the next train. The back and forth between them feels more like their texts now. Easier. Natural.

Yaku’s so busy listening to Lev explain part of Russian grammar to him that he doesn’t realize how packed the train is when they board until he’s jostled by a rather boozy-smelling businessman.

There’s no open seats. Lev grabs hold of one of the hand loops hanging from the ceiling. Yaku just grounds himself the best he can on his two legs as the train lurches forward. He only slips to the side a little and tries to keep the conversation going.

Lev stops and looks down at him questioningly. “Don’t you want to--?”

“I can’t reach it.” Yaku knits his lips together in a tight, straight line and drops his eyes to the floor. Looking at his shoes is easier than seeing whatever face Lev is making right now.

“Oh, that’s okay.” He hears Lev’s voice carry above the crowd and then there’s a hand on his back, just below his shoulder. Yaku inhales sharply, his eyes shooting open wide. He steadies his expression and dares a glance up. 

Lev’s looking at him. His eyes are softer around the edges and they make Yaku forget that they’re on a packed subway train. His brain grows quiet and still. Unlike his normal mix of Lev-induced anxious and sweaty, it makes Yaku feel a good kind of too warm. That big smile reaches Lev’s eyes again. “I’ll keep you steady.”

It takes every ounce of self-control in Yaku’s body to remind himself that this is definitely not a date.

Probably.

 

***

 

After Lev pays for his ticket before he even gets a chance to cut in, Yaku knows he’s lost the battle for control of his his mind. He won’t be able to tell Kuroo a thing about the plot of the movie because all he can do is excessively calculate every single one of Lev’s actions so far to see if everything adds up to “date” or “not a date.”

He’s still performing mental backflips when they return to the crisp night air. As they slowly walk back towards the station, hands in their pockets, eyes forward, Lev fills Yaku’s already overactive mind with more words to dissect and figure out.

“Well, that movie wasn’t really worth the money, was it? I mean, it was alright, and I liked getting to go, you know, but it wasn’t what I expected.” Lev clicks his tongue and sighs. “I’m so bad with my money right now. Like, I got this chunk from my parents to use until I got settled and found a part-time job, which I know makes me sound sort of lame and babied but it’s nice that they’re helping but -” another little sigh, “I’m just not being too smart with it. I guess I shouldn’t be spending my money on taking cute boys to the movies when there’s--”

Yaku doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence. His mind freezes. When it fires up again he just hears Lev’s voice saying “cute boys” on repeat. “On what?” He finally manages to say. He’s stopped walking. His feet are glued to the sidewalk.

Lev doesn’t skip a beat. “I was just saying I should probably save it up for next term’s books or whatever, but--”

Yaku shakes his head. “No, before that.”

“Oh.” Lev’s smile drops. He stops walking and turns to face him. “I’m sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Yaku twists the tip of his shoe into the cement. He forces himself to keep looking up, all the way up, at those almond eyes so Lev doesn’t think he hated what he said. It’s so hard to do, though. Looking at those eyes makes him forget how to speak. “Well - no - I just -”

“I’m sorry. I just sort of said it. I do that. I feel a thing then I say that thing. I can’t --”

His eyes drop to his shoes. “Why?”

“Huh?”

“You said I was --” Even summoning all his social strength, there’s no way Yaku can finish that sentence. He’d explode before he managed to do it.

“Cute.” Yaku’s eyes snap back up. As Lev says the word, a light blush begins to spread across his fair skin. “Did it bother you?”

Yaku lets several breaths steady his nerves before he speaks. “No.” Yaku watches in awe as the streetlight reveals that blush becoming a deeper shade of pink. For a moment, hope bursts forth in Yaku’s heart because Lev’s just as affected as he is.

Yaku made Lev blush.

“Because --” Lev’s eyes lock on his. “You are, you know.”

Yaku feels the telltale heat of his own embarrassed color creeping from his ears to his face. He looks back down. “That’s ridiculous.”

“No it’s not!” The force of Lev’s voice makes him glance back up. Through all the tightness in his body, that face of his makes him grin. “I like your eyes and your hair. And I know you hate when I say it, but I like that you’re small. You’re short and powerful, like all of the power trapped in a dense neutron star.” While Lev talks his long arms are flying until he forms an imaginary neutron star, apparently, in his hands.

Yaku can’t help but laugh. “What?”

Lev laughs, too, and the sound has Yaku feeling like the sun’s come out in the middle of the night - “And Yaku-san--”

“Mmm?”

When he speaks again, Lev’s voice is lower. “Unless I’m mistaken, I’ve seen how you look at me, too.”

Yaku can’t find the words to reply at all. He feels caught. Guilty. Embarrassed. Elated. Thrilled. His voice gets trapped in his throat. It’s fine. He has no idea what to say anyway.

Lev takes a breath and then continues. “A lot of people look at me, you know. I’m used to people staring because I’m different. But you don’t do that. You -- I like the way you look at me.”

“I -- what?”

A smirk stretches across Lev’s lips. “You can see more whenever you’d like.”

Yaku feels his whole face scrunching up. “You can’t just say things like that!”

Silence then laughter. A while passes before either of them say anything, but this time Yaku can’t bring himself to look away. Finally, he comes back to himself, starts to form words out of the mush that formed in the wake of Lev calling him cute. Cute. “Was I that obvious?”

“Yea, but it felt good.” Lev cracks a small smile at the corner of his lips before he continues. “I don’t know what you’re looking at, though. I’m shaped like a stretched-out alien. My face is super long, my chin is pointy, my arms are like noodles--”

“Have you seen you?” Yaku says, and the volume of it surprises him. He tries again. “You’re fine. Not like, oh you’re fine, but, you know, more than fine. It’s like, you’re good. Like I don’t know how you find the time to work out as much as you must, because your body is just --” Yaku can feel that his face must be as red as a summer tomato and he shuts up, looking past Lev’s arm down the street. He can’t look at that face anymore.

“So--” Lev starts. Yaku watches as he starts rocking on his feet. “Physically, you’re kind of my type and, I think it’s safe to bet, probably I’m your type, but that’s not it, Yaku-san.”

The final arrow through his heart. The way Lev says his name always gets him, but especially now. He swallows hard and looks at those fiercely green eyes again.

Lev’s just grinning as wide as he can. “I also think you’re really intelligent. I like how you talk with your hands when you get excited about your work. And you’re a really good listener.” Lev holds up his fingers as if he’s keeping track of how many wonderful things he can remember about Yaku. “And - and - you’re nice without being, like, too nice. And you work really hard. I like that, too. I like how--”

Yaku feels so tight within himself. He’s going to pop. Good or bad, he’s not sure. “Stop. You can’t say all that either.”

Lev tilts his head like a confused puppy. “Why not? It’s true.”

“Because I can’t say anything like it back.” Yaku’s voice grows softer as he speaks. His gaze drops again to the concrete. He’s so happy and so frustrated with himself at the same time. Why can’t he just let go? Why can’t he just snap and do whatever the equivalent of slapping a bunch of red paint on a wall in your apartment is in this situation? It’s too new. Too weird. He doesn’t have the words for this. He never has.

And then his face is stuffed into the front of Lev’s jacket because two strong arms are wrapped around him. One of the buttons pushes against his cheek. The fabric feels scratchy but cool from the night air. Those arms are stronger than he imagined, but the power of the hug isn’t what’s making it hard to breathe right now. Yaku’s whole body tenses. Lev doesn’t let go.

Yaku feels one of those big hands timidly start to drift up his neck and to the soft hairs just above. Impossibly, he tenses even more and he’s not at all sure what to do or what to say or how to do anything other than stay there stuck like a rooted tree -- and then that hand grows a little more bold, begins to gently tangle in those soft hairs and all that tension disappears. Yaku relaxes. He like a puddle against Lev’s jacket.

And he just lets himself be that puddle.

“You have soft hair.”

Yaku’s eyes snap open. He didn’t even realize they were closed. How long have they been standing here like this? He pulls back a little. Pinching his lips together with determination he awkwardly wraps two stiff arms around Lev’s lower back and tries to look all the way up that mountainous chest. “You have nice eyes.”

For the first time since he met him, Lev is speechless. His lips are parted and his eyes are just a bit wider than they were moments before. Slowly his mouth closes, he blinks a few times, and then that enormous smile is back in place, but it looks different. Even better. The best it’s ever been.

“I’m hungry.”

It takes Yaku a second to understand. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Are you hungry?” Lev asks. His hold around Yaku loosens and slowly they pull apart. 

Yaku suddenly remembers how chilly the night is. “Sure.”

“Let’s go to dinner, then. I like this curry place around the corner. Do you like curry? Of course you do. I’ve seen you eat it, like, four times at lunch.” Lev turns to walk in the direction he pointed. “Oh and Yaku-san?”

“Yes?” 

“Still my treat. You can take me out for our next date.” Lev winks and starts to bounce down the sidewalk with his hand gently placed on Yaku’s back. “If you want another one.”

This time Yaku can’t help the reckless grin that stretches from ear-to-ear. “I do.”

“Good. Because -- _Ty mne nravishsya._ ”

“What’s that mean?” Yaku looks up and over as they walk together but finds that Lev isn’t looking straight at him anymore. He’s staring forward, his cheeks still rosy from more than just the nip in the night air.

“I’ll tell you later.”

From the look on his face, Yaku’s pretty sure he knows what it means and he’s pretty sure he can’t believe what’s happening. 

But this time, maybe he’ll try not to overthink it like he does with everything else. At least not tonight. 

Lev is still a puzzle. A tantalizingly muscular, frustratingly blunt, thoughtfully charming puzzle. But he’s one Yaku can’t wait to figure out.

“Maybe I can tell you at my place -- whenever you come over.”

And then he goes and says something like that.

Now there’s another thing Yaku can’t wait to do. He can’t wait to discover the words that will make Lev’s brain stop working, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! ( ᐛ )و Oh what a fun little fic this was to write. I so enjoyed getting to write Yaku and Lev properly for the first time (not just as side characters). They're both so excellent!
> 
> There's a piece of me that wants to write little side stories for them, but for now (or maybe forever, who knows?), this is the end.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, too. Thanks for nerding out over linguistics, a panicking Yaku, and a hottie Lev with me.
> 
> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

**Author's Note:**

> One chilly November evening over a glass of wine, I turned to another fic writing friend of mine and said, "What if I made a whole fic based on Tegan and Sara's 'Living Room?'"
> 
> Well, here ya go! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> YakuLev is ♡♡♡♡, and every kudos and comment makes me feel ٩(♡ε♡ )۶. I always reply!
> 
> Chat with me on Twitter - [@HeyMellieJellie](https://twitter.com/HeyMellieJellie).  
> 


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